


With you, I fear nothing but Goodbye

by anisstaranise



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, F/M, M/M, The Weeping Angels - Freeform, Thriller, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 16:33:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7721905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anisstaranise/pseuds/anisstaranise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There’s a legend that’s attached to the Shepzoy Appleby estate.”</p><p>There’s an air of mystery surrounding the estate, that much he can feel every time they drive by the old place, even more so once he’s stepped on the grounds.</p><p>“It’s like- they just up and vanished. No trace. No signs of foul play, nothing,”</p>
            </blockquote>





	With you, I fear nothing but Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> **HAPPY SEBLAINE WEEK, LOVELIES**
> 
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> Written for [Seblaine Week 2016](http://seblaineaffairs.tumblr.com/tagged/sw2016); Days 1 + 3: _Time travel + Inspired by another TV show._
> 
> Based on and inspired by **Doctor Who** 's "Blink" + "Angels Take Manhattan"
> 
> Many thanks to the ever wonderful @ttinycourageous for reading this and helping me be the best writer I can be.

The breeze swirls upon the ground, rousing the dried leaves where they lie fallen, forgotten by its tree. A swallow darts across the late evening sky as Blaine Anderson pushes against the heavy, wrought iron gates. They open easily, much to his surprise, considering the property he’s about to enter is supposedly protected by the state’s Landmarks Preservation Commission.

“There’s not much security, is there?” Blaine calls out as he dusts the rust off his hands.

“Why would there be?” comes Hunter Clarington’s snarky response as he blows out the remnants of smoke before stubbing his cigarette on the ground. “It’s a mansion abandoned for decades. I doubt there’s anything worth protecting.”

Blaine looks up at the old derelict building- the stone walls aged brown with patches of moss creeping up from the bottom, some windows unhinged and broken, knee-high weeds growing across the grounds. He wondered how magnificent this place had been once upon a time.

The Shepzoy Appleby estate was known for its beautiful gardens and lavish weekend parties hosted by the family once upon a time. But it had been decades since an Appleby resided on the estate, leaving it to wither with time.

“So what are we doing here anyway?” asks sweet Marley Rose as she comes up next to Hunter, curling up next to her boyfriend.

He watches Hunter plant a kiss atop of Marley’s head and he smiles at their interaction. He’s known Hunter for three years now and despite the fact that his friend spends most of his time trying to convince others that he’s heartless, Blaine knows better- he’s watched Hunter fall in love with Marley, watched their relationship grow. He’s extremely happy for the two of them.

“Genius there picked Architectural photography for our joined assignment-” Hunter snarls as he nods his head in the direction of the person standing next to Blaine.

He turns his head to face the man next to him, his body gravitating towards him.

“- you couldn’t have picked self-portraits or something, Smythe,” Hunter says, feigning disgust.

“Not everyone is as narcissistic as you, Clarington,” comes Sebastian Smythe’s reply.

“Not everyone is as pretty, you mean,” Hunter retorts.

Blaine chuckles at the two friends; always butting heads- yet he knows there’s little they wouldn’t do for one another. They’re very much alike, Hunter and Sebastian; always feigning nonchalance but their hearts are big and their love true.

And Blaine feels lucky to be privileged to Sebastian’s heart. There’s little he wouldn’t do for Sebastian, either. The love of his life.

“I think it’s beautiful,” comes the musing of Tina Cohen-Chang, his ever optimistic best friend.

The five friends turn towards the house and Blaine admires the way the late afternoon sun bathes one side of the old dwelling, highlighting what a magnificent structure it is despite its age.

Beautiful, he agrees.

Blaine tears his attention away from the Shepzoy Appleby house when he hears the shutters of a camera click.

“Sebastian!” Blaine whines playfully. “I am not your subject for the assignment.”

Sebastian clicks the camera a few more times and Blaine feels heat creeping up the back of his neck, blooming up to his cheeks.

“You _should_ be the subject of all my assignments- flawless as you are,” Sebastian purrs and it makes Blaine blush harder. “Good thing I’m insanely possessive and no one should be privy to all the shots I take of you.”

The memory of all the nights Blaine’s sprawled on the bed, sweaty and sated from their bouts of love making plays in his mind- with Sebastian snapping away with his camera, muttering “You’re so beautiful”.

 “Shall we?” Sebastian asks, offering an arm before they stroll up the long and winding cobblestone driveway.

Ahead of them, Blaine sees Hunter hang his vintage Nikon camera- his pride and joy, as he calls it- around his neck and starts taking pictures of the house and everything around it- with intervals of pictures of Marley.

If Hunter and Sebastian are similar in character, their preferences when it comes to photography is where they contrast each other drastically.

Hunter is what Blaine deems an old school soul- favouring cameras with film rather than the digital single-lens reflex gadgetry Sebastian opts for. Many may regard Hunter’s choices as ‘pretentious’ or ‘photography elitist’- as Sebastian’s known to call him- but he quite agrees with Hunter about the lost art of manual focuses and darkrooms, of silver halide and stop baths when developing pictures from film. There’s a romance to it; Hunter may not show it, but he’s an absolute hopeless romantic.

Blaine watches Sebastian cradle his sturdy DSLR and captures a shot of Tina standing by the majestic beech tree coloured brown and gold. He’s sure the picture will turn out beautiful, even with minimal editing because Sebastian has an instinct for composition and an eye for finding the right lighting. And he can always tell which photographs were taken by Sebastian; there’s a sort of invisible signature to his aesthetics.

Between Hunter and Sebastian, the pictures they take are absolutely gorgeous and exquisite, worthy of any reputable art gallery.

“You know-”

He hears Hunter call from ahead as he slowly makes his way to the porch of the main house, Marley playing makeshift hop-scotch along the cobblestone path, Tina and Sebastian following close- deep in hushed conversation.

“There’s a legend that’s attached to the Shepzoy Appleby estate.”

Blaine hears Sebastian scoff somewhere behind him before he continues his conversation with Tina. He can’t help the smile tugging at his lips. His best friend and boyfriend have become such close friends. Although he’s at the center spectrum of their relationship, he’s pleased that it has evolved independently, founded in their common love for art.

“Does it involve the haunting star-crossed lovers, doomed to roam the grounds of the estate for eternity, searching for each other?” Marley asks, teasing but her eyes are alight with genuine curiosity.

Hunter laughs and pecks a kiss on Marley’s lips before shaking his head fondly.

“As tragically romantic as that sounds, strumpet-” Hunter says behind his camera as he sneaks a picture of  Marley blushing at the sound of her petname, the pink shade kissing her cheeks matching that of her sweater. “- this isn’t quite _Wuthering Heights_.”

Trust Hunter to be attuned to the romantic notions of the Literature student that is his girlfriend, Blaine thinks. Both hopeless romantics- perfect fit.

“My old man talks about it a lot-” Hunter drawls. “Nine out of ten of the missing persons cases he’s assigned to are somehow linked to this estate- this is the last known location. Some left behind cars with engines still running, all personal belongings inside-”

Blaine strays slightly from the group towards a patch of what he suspects was once a herb garden but he listens intently to Hunter’s tale, his interest piqued.

There’s an air of mystery surrounding the estate, that much he can feel every time they drive by the old place, even more so once he’s stepped on the grounds.

“It’s like- they just up and vanished. No trace. No signs of foul play, nothing,” Hunter continues in between taking pictures.

Curious, he thinks. People don’t just vanish. There must be a logical explanation to it all. Perhaps those people wanted to disappear, to start anew and leave their old lives, their troubles behind. Blaine finds himself envying them for a second. He would have given anything to start anew, once upon a time.

And then he had met Sebastian.

He smiles at the memory- of them meeting at one of Tina’s art showcases, of how Sebastian had shamelessly taken a Polaroid picture of himself holding up a napkin with his number scrawled on it, of how he had seductively slipped the picture into Blaine’s hand and whispered ‘Call me’ in his ear, low and purring.

Blaine’s lost in thoughts of the past as he tracks the sprouts of selfheal flowers- its bluish-purple hue standing out amidst the weeds and dried leaves. A series of clicking shutters pull his attention away and he sees Sebastian crouching by a hedge- lens pointed at him.

“Seriously, babe- don’t you already have enough pictures of me?” he says, feigning irritation.

“Never enough,” comes Sebastian’s easy remark before he lifts the camera back to eye-level, shutter clicking away.

Blaine blushes in spite of himself; he suspects he’ll never quite get used to seeing himself the way Sebastian sees him. All the pictures Sebastian’s taken of him, developed and hung with pride in their home- in Sebastian’s eyes, he’s beautiful.

The wind rustles the trees around them, striking up a symphony amongst the undergrowth. Blaine can’t help but close his eyes and immerse himself in the moment. On top of the air of mystery seemingly shrouding the derelict estate, there’s also a sense of splendour to it all.

When he opens his eyes, Blaine finds Sebastian engrossed by the display screen of his camera.

“That’s weird-,” Sebastian says, his brows wrinkled in confusion.

“What is it, love?” Blaine asks as he strides across the garden, coming up by Sebastian’s side.

“That statue in the back garden-”  Sebastian’s fingers are deftly pressing the _previous_ and _forward_ buttons of the photo-previews. “- I could have sworn it was further away in the first frame.”

Blaine scrutinizes the pictures of himself by the herb garden, a solitary angel statue standing in the background. He tracks the frame-by-frame as Sebastian moves from one picture to the other, keeping his eyes trained on the statue in the pictures. It does seem closer but he can’t be sure.

“It’s just a trick of light, Sebastian,” he dismisses, turning his face up to the sun slowly dipping in the West. What other explanation is there? Statues do not move.

Sebastian shrugs in agreement before turning his camera towards the main building, shutter clicking rapidly.

Tina wanders alongside Blaine, fingers twirling a stem of weed daisy as she makes her way to the back garden, towards the stone statue. He leaves Sebastian’s side in exchange for his best friend’s company, tugging at his scarf tighter as another breeze blows across the estate.

“It’s magnificent,” Tina breathes as she circles the statue once, her eyes never leaving the effigy. “And it’s... interesting, too.”

“How so?”

Tina runs a hand over the arms and back of the angel. “This statue is made out of something I’m not familiar with,” she says as she circles the statue once more. “It’s not alabaster. It’s not marble or granite.”

Blaine regards the statue, intrigued.

“And there’s a grace to the kinetic- I’ve never seen anything quite like it,” Tina breathes, her voice heavy with awe. “-it’s just really remarkable. It’s so...”

“..life-like,” Blaine finishes for Tina.

He gauges the angel statue in its entirety; the curls of its stone hair that’s grouped together in a sophisticated bun resting at the nape of its neck, the slender stone arms that elegantly bend to cover its stone face and eyes, the stone feathers along the arching wings, the long, stone dress that gives the impression of flowing in the breeze. Yes, it’s remarkably life-like; disconcertingly so.

“It’s just a statue, Tina,” Blaine says despite the unsettling feeling fluttering in his gut. What is it about this place, this statue that seems to have his flight instincts on high alert?

“We’re going inside,” Marley calls from the porch atop the stoop. “Hunter wants to get some interior shots before we lose light.”

Blaine sees Sebastian make his way towards the stoop as he follows up the garden path with Tina clinging to his arm, the angel statue forgotten.

Inside, the floorboards creak as the five friends explore the ground floor of the Shepzoy Appleby house, the light from the fading sun bathing the rooms in its golden rays, casting long shadows in its wake.

The disturbed dust dances in the sunbeams as Blaine makes his way around the parlour, daintily touching a crystal chandelier on the floor caked with decades of dust, broken, forsaken.

“I love this place- everything is so beautiful,” Sebastian breathes as he comes up behind Blaine, one hand wrapped around his waist, the other holding out the camera in front of them. He smiles into the lens, pressing his cheek to Sebastian’s.

The shutter clicks. Another moment of theirs preserved.

“Only you can find the beauty in the broken, Sebastian,” Blaine says with a smile as he turns in his boyfriend’s arm.

He’s not referring to the deteriorating house around them and everything in it; he’s talking about himself. Orphaned at a young age and passed from one foster family to another with barely a happy memory to his childhood, Blaine sees himself as damaged, broken.

But not anymore; Sebastian’s his new beginning, his fresh set of eyes in seeing himself and the world.

Sebastian steals a kiss from his lips, quickening his pulse; Sebastian has that effect on Blaine in all the ways he loves him.

A scream piercing the silence breaks the moment between them.

Marley.

Sebastian gives his arms a little squeeze- a silent _Will you be alright here?_ He nods, planting a peck to Sebastian’s hand before his boyfriend sprints off in the direction of the distressed cry. As Sebastian disappears down the corridor, Blaine quickly backtracks out of the parlour to make sure Tina is alright.

Once he’s reunited with Tina, they both make their way to the back of the house- the kitchen area, he suspects, where Marley’s scream originated from. They cut through the breakfast nook that overlooks the back garden- its once glass French doors now broken and off its hinges- and something startles Blaine to a stop.

The angel statue.

Blaine halts and veers down to the nook, peering intently at the statue. Curious; he swears it had been facing away from the house when they saw it earlier. But now-

Now- it’s as though the statue is looking _into_ the house.

Is there more than one, he wonders.

“Come on, Blaine,” Tina urges, tugging at his sleeve.

 _Don’t be silly, Anderson_ , he silently reprimands. _Statues do not move._

“What’s going on?” Tina asks once they arrive at the kitchen.

Blaine sees Marley giggling into Hunter’s shoulder as Hunter and Sebastian look inside of the walk-in pantry.

His line of vision is hindered by the opened pantry door, unable to see what they’re all looking at. But once he’s by Sebastian’s side, the sight that greets him almost makes him jump out of his skin.

An angel statue- almost identical to the one in the garden- except-

Except that this one has its hands slightly lowered from its face. Blaine can see its bland, stone eyes now and it sends a shiver down his spine. Bland, stone eyes that look... _alive_.

“Marley got spooked by this thing here,” Hunter says, jerking his head towards the statue in the pantry.

“I’m sorry,” Marley says amidst her giggles. “The urban legend Hunter was talking about kind of messed with my head and I got a little jumpy.”

Tina joins in on the giggles but Blaine doesn’t find it funny. There’s something about it all that doesn’t seem right.

“What’s it doing in the house?” Blaine asks, his voice small. “What’s it doing in the pantry of all places?”

Silence falls as the five friends regard the angel statue. Blaine stares at it, his nerves standing on edge as if waiting for the statue to move; a flinch, a twitch.

He sees Hunter pull away from Marley’s side and approach the statue, slow and steady.

The clinking sound of Hunter flicking his Zippo lighter- open and close, open again, close again- in his hand is the only sound that fills the room; a habit he’s known to do since Marley had given it to him for their anniversary- the words “ _Just us two_ ” engraved on it.

For a moment, no one breathes. Or perhaps it’s just Blaine- his flight instincts on overdrive now. His instincts have never failed him before; he often credits it to keeping him safe, keeping him alive growing up- especially during his brief stint in Juvy.

Something’s not right.

“Someone must have put it there,” Sebastian says, tucking the DSLR into his camera bag.

“Who?” Blaine asks, genuinely curious.

“Maybe some kids looking to play a prank. It got Marley pretty good,” his boyfriend says, chuckling at an embarrassed Marley.

Blaine nods in agreement. It _does_ make sense; statues do not move.

But he can’t shake this... feeling. Something’s not right.

“How?” he asks, nitpicking at the subject he knows he should leave well alone- much like a petulant child. “That thing must weigh a ton.”

“What are you saying, Blaine?” Hunter counters as he circles the statue, fingers ever-flicking the lighter.

What _is_ he saying?

“I’m just-,” Blaine stammers. “-it’s just-”

“What is it?” Sebastian whispers, laying a soothing hand on the small of his back and his thrumming nerves calms slightly.

After three years together, it no longer surprises Blaine the effects Sebastian has on him. Sebastian’s helped pick up the pieces of him that were broken and frayed, patiently waited for him to heal his battered spirits. With Sebastian, he’s learned to trust more- something he had been cautious in doing, even with Tina.

And after three years together, it’s safe to say Blaine trusts Sebastian with his life.

“The statue-” Blaine says scanning the effigy, goose pimples breaking along his arms. “- it’s really creeping me out.”

Hunter laughs, his eyes still fixed upon the angel effigy. But it isn’t mocking; Hunter may be playful with his teasing but he’s never tactless.

“It’s just stone-” his friend says.

Blaine watches with baited breath as Hunter reaches a hand towards the stone arm of the statue, his movement seem slow and dawdling.

 _Don’t touch it_ , Blaine wants to scream. Something’s not right.

Hunter’s fingers are mere inches away now and-

The door bell rings- loud and church-like.

Marley shrieks as Blaine’s heart jumps up to his throat, pounding hard and fast.

The five friends turn to each other, one thought reverberating deafeningly between them;

_Who could it be?_

The door bell rings again.

This time, it prompts Blaine to move- his steps taking him out of the kitchen. He feels Sebastian follow suit, his distance protectively close as Tina flanks his other side. Despite the dread that’s coursing through him- _something’s not right_ \- he feels quite safe in the company of those he loves.

The dipping sun peaks through broken shutters and windows as Blaine pulls the old oak door open, the wood creaking at the hinges and peers through the crack.

On the other side, he finds a man standing on the porch dressed in a leather jacket over a brown and gray flannel, his jeans stonewashed and worn, the thick soles of his boots adding a few inches to his already impressive height, sun rays glistening against the black sedan waiting at the bottom of the stoop.

“Can we help you?” Blaine asks in spite of himself. It’s an awkward question, strange on his tongue. He’s not the master of the Shepzoy Appleby house yet curiosity gets the better of him.

_Who is this man? Why did he ring the doorbell of an old, abandoned house?_

The man shifts from one foot to the other, his stance hesitant. Then, after taking a deep breath and huffing it forcefully out, he speaks;

“I’m looking for- Sebastian Smythe?”

Blaine blinks in astonishment. Did he hear correctly?

“Sebastian?” Tina asks, puzzled.

“Wait-” Sebastian quips as he pries the opened door wider. “How did you know to find me here?”

“I was given this letter-” the man says, holding up an envelope browned with age, _Sebastian Smythe_ written in a familiar messy scrawl. “- with specific instructions to bring it here- on this exact date, at this exact time.”

Blaine tracks Sebastian’s extended hand- eager to receive the letter but nervous all the same.

“Who’s it from?”

“That’s the interesting bit,” the man says, his eyes gleaming with excitement- like he’s been waiting a long time to share his story. “My grandaunt recently gave it to me and made sure I followed the instructions her father had given her to the letter.”

“I’m sorry-,” Tina chimes in. “- who was your grandaunt? Who are you?”

“Goodness, I’m terribly sorry,” the man says, slightly embarrassed as he extends as hand to shake between the three friends. “I’m Horatio Goodman. I’m Margaret Clarington’s nephew- grandnephew to be exact.”

Blaine’s stomach jolt’s at the name.

“Clarington?” he asks. Suddenly he realizes why he had recognized the penmanship on the envelope; Hunter’s.

“Like- Hunter Clarington?”

The man perks up at the mention of Hunter’s name.

“Yes, that’s my Grandaunt Marge’s father. Hunter Clarington. Interesting character, I’m told- and brilliant photographer-  takes these beautiful pictures.”

Horatio continues to expound on the impressive works of his great-grandfather Hunter but Blaine doesn’t hear the rest of it. His head spins. Something’s not right.

“What’s going on?” Marley asks as she comes up behind Tina. “Who are you?”

The porch boards creak under Horatio’s feet as he takes a few quick steps forward, almost surging towards Marley, only stopping once Sebastian protectively stands in front of her.

“Incredible,” he breathes. “I apologize; I don’t mean to be intrusive. It’s just that-”

“What?” Marley demands, confusion set on her winsome face.

“It’s really incredible that you look _just_ like my Grandaunt Marge. It’s like travelling back in time,” Horatio explains, huffing a little amused laugh.

Blaine turns to look at Marley, who smiles politely at the man but he can tell she’s slightly rattled by Horatio’s presence.

 “And my grandaunt Marge- she looks _exactly_ like her mother- my great-grandmother, Marley Clarington.”

The four friends swiftly turn to face Horatio- brows furrowed in their shared puzzlement.

“Is this a joke?” Marley questions, her voice rising slightly. “Did Hunter send you or something?”

“I- really- I don’t-” the man tries to say but nothing cohesive comes.

Blaine watches as Horatio fumbles with his words, clearly startled by the onslaught of accusations.

“I’m sorry. I’m just doing what was asked of me. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Horatio says when he collects himself. “I should go.”

The sky outside glows in hues of blue and orange and pink as Blaine watches Horatio take his leave, climbing into the waiting sedan and driving away, leaving them to make sense of all that he’s divulged.

Who was he really, this Horatio Goodman? An accomplice to an elaborate prank devised by Hunter?

Somehow, there’s a nagging feeling within Blaine that just _knows_ that this isn’t Hunter’s doing; at least not as a prank. His friend is ever-playful, but never tactless.

 When Sebastian moves to close the door, Blaine catches sight of the bulging envelope.

“Bas-” he calls as he slowly tugs at Sebastian’s arm. “Open it.”

In the last remnants of daylight, Sebastian tugs at the envelope’s flap, tearing it with impatient fingers as Marley and Tina join him in crowding his boyfriend, the air thrumming with suspense.

Sebastian pulls out a folded piece of paper- it looks old, decaying with time. And there’s a smell to it- like the scent of the pages of an old book.

More carefully this time, Sebastian unravels the folds of the letter and reads the words aloud:

‘ _Sebastian- my old friend-_

 _When you get this, it would have been mere minutes since the doorbell rang. You and everyone went to answer it- whilst I linger to take a closer look at the angel statue. This proves to be my undoing-_ ’

“What is this?” Tina asks, her voice shaking slightly.

Blaine chances a glance down the hall that leads to the kitchen, Tina’s query mirroring his own; what _is_ this? Something’s not right.

‘ _Blaine was right to be wary of the statues. They’re not of this world._ ’

“What does that even mean?” Blaine huffs, his frustration brewing. “ _Not of this world_?”

Sebastian turns to look at Blaine, his expression just as perplexed before continuing to read the letter.

‘ _I’ve spent many years trying to understand what the statues did to me but I’m no closer to understanding it now than when I first found myself transported to Chicago in 1920.’_

“1920? Chicago?” Marley quips. “Hunter’s never left New York! And Jersey doesn’t count.”

 _‘But I’ve uncovered some legends from some enthusiasts of the supernatural, the extraterrestrial; they’re called The Weeping Angels- named so by the way they cover their face when you first see them._ ’

“I’m going-” Tina mutters, tearing herself away from the group.

“Tina, wait!” Blaine cries and he grabs hold of her arm. “Just- listen. Please.”

He doesn’t know why he’s ignoring his flight instincts. He knows he should be running out of the house right alongside his best friend. But something’s stirring in his gut the more Sebastian reads the letter. There’s something else that eclipses his instinct to flee-

Trust.

Blaine trusts the Hunter who had written the letter. _He’s trying to tell us something_ , he thinks. It’s not logical, it’s not rational- but Blaine trusts it.

This is right.

‘ _Don’t blink, don’t turn away. Those statues move when no one’s looking. For some reason, the statues cannot move when they’re being watched. I’ve theorised that this is the reason they cover their faces in the presence of other statues; they can’t even look at one another._ ’

“This is insane,” Marley cries as she impatiently snatches the letter and envelope from Sebastian.

Amidst the exchange, a few photographs fall to the floor, sending a soft cloud of dust to flutter.

Marley slowly crouches down to pick them up. As she slowly thumbs through them, Blaine catches glimpses of the sepia pictures;

Marley standing by the front porch of the Shepzoy Appleby Hunter had taken earlier, Hunter and Marley on their wedding day, Hunter and Marley surrounded by three children- their children...

“This isn’t funny anymore, Hunter,” Marley yells as she turns on her heel and marches to the kitchen.

“Marley- wait,” Sebastian calls after her but to no avail.

They soon follow Marley’s stride, their hurried steps thumping across the old floorboards.

It could have been his imagination but as they passed the breakfast nook by the back garden, Blaine swears the angel statue he had seen is much closer than before.

“Hunter!” Marley yells.

No answer.

“Hunter!”

The light of dusk bathes the kitchen blue and purple as Marley storms in.

It’s empty.

Blaine watches her swerve towards the pantry urgently and follows her closely.

It’s empty, too- except-

Except for the angel statue-

And Hunter’s Zippo lighter, fallen to the floor- forgotten.

Marley quickly picks it up and clutches it to her chest; Blaine knows as she does that Hunter wouldn’t go anywhere without it.

Something’s not right.

“Hunter!” Marley calls again, her voice close to tears. “Hunter, where are you? This isn’t funny!”

Something’s not right.

And that’s when Blaine realizes it-

Earlier, the angel statue had been covering its face slightly- Blaine remembers its stone eyes- those life-like stone eyes-

But now, only one of the angel’s stone hand is covering its face-

The other- it’s outstretched.

No, Blaine thinks. Statues do not move.

But the letter-

“Hunter!”

“Marley, stop!” Blaine shouts.

Silence fall; everything’s quiet save for Marley’s ragged breathing filling up the spaces of the room.

“Sebastian- the statue-” he says, calling his boyfriend’s attention to the angel effigy.

Blaine sees the fear wash over his boyfriend’s face; Sebastian sees it, too.

“The arms,” comes Tina’s observation. “It can’t be.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Marley asks, panicked.

Blaine’s mind is buzzing- flight instincts on high-alert once more.

_Don’t blink, don’t turn away._

“Marley, finish the letter!” he says anxiously.

Marley freezes slightly, her eyes wide, distressed. Slowly, Blaine approaches her but his eyes are trained on the statue. _Don’t blink_.

He lays a comforting hand on her shoulder, gently urging her to read the rest of the letter.

The paper shakes in her trembling hands as Marley lifts it up, squinting at the words in the dimming light. She reads:

‘ _In the presence of the Weeping Angel, remember- don’t blink. Find something to reflect its image once they uncover their eyes- and then, my friend- run! Run fast and run far. Your life depends on it._ ’

“Don’t look away from the statue,” Blaine warns as he feels Sebastian hand fall on his hip. It’s protective, gallant.

“You can’t be serious,” Tina huffs with a little laugh but there’s no humour in it. She’s scared, too.

Blaine knows it’s insane, knows how ridiculous it sounds the moment he utters the words. Statues do not move. And yet-

 _Listen to the letter, listen to Hunter_ , his instincts say.

This is right.

“This part is addressed to me,” Marley whispers.

‘ _I beseech you, Sebastian, please tell Marley-_

_My dearest strumpet, forgive me. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. But I swear, I will make it up to you. Does 1920s Paris and dinner with the Fitzgeralds, sound inviting? Zelda and Scott will love you- and you will love Paris- just as you will love this new life that awaits us. You and me, Marley- just us two._

_And Sebastian- shut the door_!’

“It ends there-” Marley exclaims hysterically. “The letter- it ends there.”

“Marley-”

“What’s the catch? What’s the punch line?” she yells, crying now.

“Marley, calm down,” Blaine says, pulling his friend into a hug.

But Marley resists, shoving him away.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Sebastian says, trying to sooth their raving friend.

“Don’t patronize me!”

“We should call the police,” Tina quips.

“What for?” Marley shrieks. “Hunter’s here somewhere waiting to jump out and yell _Gotcha, losers, you fell for that_?”

“Just keep your eyes on the statue,” Sebastian reminds.

“Don’t enable this prank, Sebastian,” Tina reprimands.

“Look at that statue, Tina,” Sebastian yells, turning to Tina.

“Statues do not move,” Tina counters.

“How do you explain that then?” his boyfriend shouts, point at the angel effigy in the pantry, his arm shaking with rage.

“Statues do not move!”

Blaine’s ears are ringing with the angry shouts and the hysterics. It’s too much to bear, too much to process. He tries to shut it out- and in a reflex move- he shuts his eyes.

An afterthought crosses his mind at lightning speed.

_Who’s looking at the statue now?_

His eyelids fly open- and meets Marley gaze.

There’s a movement so swift, so rapid at the corner of his eye- and then-

Marley disappears-

The angel statue’s stone finger pointed high to where his friend’s shoulder had been.

“Marley!” Blaine screams, his heart rattling against his ribs, fear coursing through his veins.

“Blaine, get out of there!” Sebastian commands.

Blaine backs out of the pantry blindly, too terrified to tear his eyes away from the statue.

 _The Weeping Angel_ , Hunter had written in the letter.

He hears the scraping of an old dining chair behind him before Sebastian materializes by his side. His boyfriend frantically pushes the pantry door, slamming it shut. Then, he deftly wedges the chair under the door handle.

“Statues don’t move. Statues don’t move,” Tina mutters under her breath- like a mantra. Like a prayer.

 _Statues do not move_.

Suddenly-

A loud thud rattles the door, shaking the dust off the frame.

Tina shrieks.

“It’s trying to get out,” Blaine breathes.

 _Statues do not move_.

Another thud.

“Run!” Sebastian yells.

Blaine doesn’t question it. His feet are already flying out of the kitchen, Tina and Sebastian close behind him.

The house is dark save for the last blue glow of the setting sun streaming in from the broken windows. They pass the breakfast nook. The angel statue from the garden is inside now- arms outstretched as though it’s reaching for them- for Blaine.

He sprints faster, straight to the front door. He grabs the knob and turns it-

Locked.

Blaine rattles and pulls at the door but it remains shut, unmoving.

“They’ve locked the doors!” he shouts, glancing back towards Tina and Sebastian.

His stomach drops when he sees the Weeping Angel from the breakfast nook now mere inches away from Sebastian- an arm reaching, its wings spanned wide.

“Behind you!” Blaine warns.

Sebastian and Tina spin around immediately, their heartbeats echoing loudly in the quiet of the derelict home, their eyes fixed upon the threatening statue.

“What do we do now?” comes Tina’s petrified whimper as she desperately clutches Blaine’s hand.

“We need to find another way out,” Sebastian says, his back straight in a defensive stance. “Keep looking at it.”

Blaine tries hard to resist running his eyes up and down the statue, afraid that if moving his sights away from its face will allow it to move. But it’s difficult to keep staring at its stone face with its eyes staring back at Blaine- as if it were boring into his soul, making flesh his fears. It sends a cold shiver and an icy terror coursing throughout his body.

At the corner of his eye, Blaine sees Sebastian scan the room, possibly for another exit. Sebastian then disappears from his line of sight and he hears his boyfriend’s steps down the corridor on the left.

“Sebastian-” he breathes.

Silence.

Seconds pass but Blaine feels the weight of eternity in the passing time. Tina’s breathing matches his- short puffs, ragged, terrified.

Then, he hears the scraping of something heavy come from the left corridor and soon after, a large, bulky vanity enters his line of sight, Sebastian straining to push the weight of it.

Blaine exhales a relieved breath as he fights the urge to look at Sebastian.

 _Don’t blink, don’t turn away_.

His eyes are tired now- painfully drying from going too long without blinking. But he pushes through; their lives depend on it.

In his peripheral vision, Blaine tracks Sebastian making quick work at placing the vanity directly in front of the statue. His boyfriend then flips the rotating mirror- half broken and coated in dust. But the unbroken half shines in the half-light of dusk.

“Sebastian, what are you doing?” Tina’s voice small and trembling.

“In the letter, Hunter said to find something to reflect the statue’s image,” Sebastian explains nervously.

“Will a mirror work?”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Blaine sees Sebastian curl a smirk on his lips. “Only one way to find out.”

His Sebastian- always finding beauty in the broken.

Sebastian tilts the mirror to reflect the statue’s bare stone face, the dead stone eyes reflected perfectly.

“On the count of three- run!”

“One.” Blaine wriggles his toes inside his shoes, anticipating his impending sprint.

“Two.” He lays a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze- _I’m here, with you, always_ \- and clasps the other in Tina’s, making sure his friend knows he’s right there beside her, too.

“Three.”

The three of them take off running, tracing their steps back down the hall. Blaine strains to listen for any sound –footsteps? stomping?- from the statue, his senses alert to whether they’re being pursued.

Silence.

It worked.

His lungs burn with the exertion but he releases a sigh of relief nonetheless.

Their best chance would be to veer down towards the breakfast nook and plough through the overgrown shrubbery by the broken garden doors to make their way out of the Shepzoy Appleby estate.

It’s their best chance to be free of this nightmare.

But before they can reach the garden doors, there’s another angel statue that’s coming towards the breakfast nook, frozen in a charging position, leaving behind a trail of splinters; the statue from the pantry.

Blaine gasps at the sight of it as he halts his movements, his eyes instinctively fixated on the effigy. Icy fear travels through his veins and settles in his bones- this Weeping Angel’s stone face is hideous, stone eyes frightful and _alive_ , its stone lips curled into a snarl revealing ghastly, razor-sharp stone teeth.

His heart races even more when he spots two more Weeping Angels in the corner of the room- one blocking their chance at an exit.

Tina’s stifled sobs fill the room, bouncing off the stone walls and the three stone statues before them.

 _Three of them, three of us_ , Blaine muses and panic sets deep in his core.

 _Run fast and run far_. How?

“Sebastian-” Blaine chokes a sob, blindly reaching for his boyfriend’s hand. They find each other half-way, the way they always do. “I love you.”

This is it, this is the end, he thinks, defeated- his heart pounding in his chest. Whatever happens, at least he isn’t alone.

“Don’t talk like that,” Sebastian scolds, shaking his camera satchel off his shoulders, one hand still gripping Blaine’s. “We’re going to make it out of here. I swear.”

The house is almost pitch-black now, the darkness swallowing up the light as twilight approaches. Blaine shudders to think what will happen once night falls and they aren’t able to see the Weeping Angels anymore.

Will they be reunited with Hunter and Marley in 1920s Chicago? Will they be sent to different times in the past? Or is it possible to be sent to the future?

For all that he’s been through- growing up alone and labelled a juvenile delinquent- Blaine doesn’t have any regrets. All the roads he’s taken had led him to Sebastian.

If the Weeping Angels somehow send him back to his past where he’s given a chance for a do-over, to make different decisions, Blaine’s sure he would do everything exactly the same.

Because of Sebastian.

Sebastian’s his home now, his future- one no past can mar.

“Sebastian, what are you doing?” comes Tina’s voice, shrill and ever-terrified. “Don’t move. Don’t blink.”

“Trust me,” is all Sebastian whispers, letting go of Blaine’s hand as he blindly fiddles with the contents of his camera bag ahead of him.

Blaine traces the outlines of Sebastian’s body- shoulders tensed, neck craned and head locked in the direction of the Weeping Angels, his hands working deftly in the semi-darkness.

Then he hears the whistling of sliding metal followed by a tiny click of something equally metal locking in place. He recognizes it immediately- Sebastian’s retractable tripod.

Blaine strains to listen to Sebastian’s jostling and twisting over the sound of his pounding heart in his ears. They’re fast losing light now.

Suddenly-

The room glows bright white, the light illuminating the frozen advancing statues; the LED light from Sebastian’s camera.

Blaine has to remind himself not to flinch despite the ghastly appearance of the effigy that chills the blood in his veins as he pulls Tina closer to him. _Don’t blink_.

Slowly, Sebastian takes a cautious step back and Blaine sees the rectangular glow of the camera’s display screen- the red record button blinking like a heartbeat.

 “You’re recording them,” he mutters, part impressed, part wary of Sebastian’s plan. Nonetheless, he trusts it, trusts Sebastian- he trusts Sebastian with his life.

“ _The camera becomes an extension of your eyes_ ,” Sebastian quotes one of the many photographers he’s come to admire.

Brilliant, Blaine thinks. So long as the camera is on the statues, it’d be like someone’s looking at them, watching them.

“Get ready.”

Sebastian grips Blaine’s hand again, lacing their fingers together. _I’m here, with you, always._

He continues to stare at the Weeping Angels, not ready to put Sebastian’s plan to the test just yet as he digs a heel in the creaking floorboard, anticipating the push off.

 _Run fast and run far_.

“Go.”

And the three of them bolt towards the broken garden doors, hurtling past one of the Weeping Angels that had attempted to block the doorway and jumping over fallen brambles.

Somewhere along the way, Blaine loses both Tina and Sebastian’s hands, the three of them concentrating at putting as much distance between them and the Shepzy Appleby house as they can. But they stay close; Tina by his side, slightly behind- Sebastian up ahead but always looking over his shoulder to make sure they are alright.

Blaine’s lungs burn with every breath he takes, the muscles in his legs screaming at the sudden exertion. Still he runs, pushing through the pain.

They pass the massive, wrought iron gates out of the estate. Relief washes over him like the first break of light after hours of infinite darkness.

 _We made it_ , he dares to think amidst the pain of his calf muscles stiffening and the side stitches that sear at his abdomen.

But he doesn’t slow down, his legs powered by paranoia that they’re not yet in the clear. Sebastian doesn’t stop running. Neither does Tina.

There’s a sliver of blue light mingled with the last remnants of orange and pink somewhere in the horizon when they finally reach the clearing where they had parked their cars.

Hunter’s prized 1980s Volvo sits in the near darkness, loyally waiting for its driver who will never come. Marley’s favourite pink and brown pashmina is draped over the passenger seat. Blaine’s heart clenches amidst its frantic pounding. He never had the chance to say goodbye to his friends who are lost somewhere in time. But at least Hunter and Marley are together- like they always intended to be. Blaine takes solace in that.

“Don’t say I don’t take you anywhere, Blaine Anderson,” comes Sebastian’s teasing between his gasps for air, trying to steady his breathing.

Blaine affords a small laugh at Sebastian’s humour. Sebastian Smythe- always seeing beauty in the broken.

Tina laughs, too, hiccupping a sob once in a while. He rushes to throw an arm over her shoulder. _We made it_.

There’s a jingling of keys as Sebastian tries to unlock their Nissan hatchback. Tina buries her face in the nook of his shoulders as he plants kisses in her hair. _We made it_.

Then- there’s rustling of leaves, soft but fast.

Something’s not right. Blaine’s flight instincts kick in again.

There’s a grayish haziness at the corner of his eye. Panicked, Blaine frantically searches for Sebastian in the dying light of day.

They meet each other’s gaze and he holds it-unblinking, a small smile etched on Sebastian’s lips.

And then-

Like a rapidly dissolving vapour- Sebastian disappears, car keys falling to the empty ground.

“Sebastian!” Blaine screams into the void where his boyfriend had been.

A feet away stands a Weeping Angel, its stone arms held out, a stone finger pointed at the height where Sebastian’s shoulder had been, an almost smile settled on its stone face and its eyes almost... triumphant.

Blaine’s throat strains at the intensity of the shouts that follow-

_No!_

_Where is he?_

_Bring him back!_

The Weeping Angel stands unmoving, almost mocking.

 _Don’t blink_.

Tina’s crying now, leaning somewhere against the old Volvo.

The Volvo- Hunter’s Volvo; the sight of it cushions his raging grief slightly.

And he realizes-

“I can still be with him-” Blaine says, directing his words to Tina.

“What?”

“The same statue that touched Hunter touched Marley- and they end up at the same place, in the same time...”

“Blaine, you can’t-” Tina’s begging now, serving empty promises of _We’ll find another way_.

But there’s no other way.

This is right.

“It’s okay, I’ll be with Sebastian-” he assures. “- just like I should be.”

“Blaine!”

“All I have to do is blink.”

“No!” Tina rushes to his side, hands clutching at his arm.

She’s crying, sobs ripping through the quiet clearing.

Tears well in Blaine’s eyes and roll down his cheeks. Still he stares at the statue. He knows what needs to be done, he knows what he wants.

It’s simple, really. All he has to do is blink and let the Weeping Angel magic him to where Sebastian is.

But there’s something he needs to do first-

“Tina-” Blaine calls as he twines their hands together. “Take the car-”

“No!”

“Take the car-” he repeats, “-and get as far away from here as you can. And don’t come back. Don’t you ever come back here again, you hear me?” Blaine’s voice is shaking, breaking.

“I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. You’ll be alright.”

“No, I won’t,” she cries, her tears falling on their linked hands. “Not without you.”

It’s almost pitch black now, the outlines of the statue slowly being devoured by the darkness. Time’s running out.

“Tina, listen to me-” he pleads as sincerely as he can. “- you get in that car and you go live your life. Call that guy from the coffee shop the other day- what’s his name? Mike?”

Tina chokes a small laugh amidst her crying.

“You have your whole life ahead of you. Go fall in love- and live.”

“But you?”

“Sebastian’s my home,” is all he says. It’s all he needs to say.

Wherever Sebastian is- in some distant past, in some foreign place- that’s where his home will be. His home has a heartbeat. Sebastian’s.

And it’s all Tina needs to hear before she slowly, reluctantly lets go of his hand, hurrying towards the driver’s side of the car, eyes inclined to stare at the statue still.

“I promise,” Tina says unprompted.

“Tina-”

“I promise I’ll keep telling your stories- yours, Sebastian’s- Hunter and Marley’s.”

Blaine’s heart clenches. This brave, dear best friend of his.

“I’ll tell your stories so you won’t be forgotten. So these- _things_ \- won’t win. I won’t let them,” Tina bellows and Blaine crying in earnest now- his vision of the Weeping Angel a watery blur.

If only he could look at his best friend one last time-

“Thank you,” Blaine whispers instead.

The car engine roars as the glow from the headlights flood the clearing, illuminating everything around him. The Weeping Angel almost glimmers in the light-

It should be frightening- after all the five friends had been through.

But it doesn’t scare Blaine- not anymore.

 _Tina will remember us_.

Blaine waits for the sound of the engine to disappear in the distance. And he waits a little longer just to ensure that Tina’s driven far enough away.

Then, in the growing darkness of the clearing-

He blinks.

.

There’s a deafening ringing in his ears. The darkness pressing around him is darker than the darkest of nights he’s experienced. There’s a pain of being pulled outward in all different directions and being pulled into himself at the same time- it’s excruciating.

 He feels like he’s spinning- and falling. But he holds on to the thought of Sebastian; wherever he’s being transported to, he’s almost home.

This is right.

And he’s falling.

And falling.

.

A wailing siren fills the air and it jolts Blaine awake.

He sits up too quickly and his stomach churns. He presses a hand to his mouth to stop the gagging feeling.

Then, Blaine hears hurried footsteps.

He looks up in time to see a young family, two adults and a child dressed rather peculiarly, run into their home. They quickly switch off their lights and draw the curtains closed.

The siren keeps wailing. It’s familiar although Blaine is too disoriented to put a finger on it.

“Where am I?” he whispers, climbing to his feet- slowly this time.

There’s a thick smell wafting in the air. Smoke? Haze?

Blaine twirls around- slowly- taking in the surroundings.  It’s then he realizes he had been lying in the middle of the street.

A clock chimes in the distance. It’s thunderous and aggressive. It’s familiar.

When Blaine looks up, he sees the outline of a massive clock tower in the distance.

The Big Ben.

“London,” Blaine breathes rather amusedly. “But when?”

It’s then he puts two and two together; London, siren, the smell of smoke.

1940s. The London Blitz.

The air raid sirens continue to howl. All around him, more houses put out their lights. Before long, the entire street is engulfed in darkness.

He’s alone.

“Sebastian,” he whispers, his heart constricting around the name.

He starts to jog in no particular direction, head swimming with doubt. What if Sebastian’s not here?

“Sebastian!” Blaine shouts into the darkness, straining to be heard over the sirens.

“Sebastian!”

Nothing but sirens.

“Sebastian!”

Blaine stops at the end of the street, gasping for air. He feels his heart start to crumble. He chokes around the thickness of the air and a cruel realization; he’s alone.

Then, suddenly-

“Blaine?” comes a voice he loves so dearly.

He turns swiftly-

And there at the crossroads, bathed under the light of a nearby lamp post stands Sebastian;

His home.

Blaine’s legs are weak yet he still runs- runs towards the man he loves.

Sebastian pushes off towards him, too, and they meet halfway, crashing into each other as the waves meet the shore.

This is right.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” Sebastian breathes, his face tucked in Blaine’s curly hair.

“I’m here, with you, always,” Blaine replies, his heart beating a rhythm that’s in sync with Sebastian’s.

They hold each other as the All Clear siren wails. It’s safe now.

Yes, safe.

They’re stuck in a foreign time, torn away from all they know- friends, loved one- yet he does feel safe.

Because he’s with Sebastian, he’s home. Nothing else matters.

For once, it is Blaine who sees beauty in the broken.

\---END.

**Author's Note:**

> I've incorporated many of my own theories and headcanons regarding The Weeping Angels.  
> The name " **Shepzoy Appleby** " is my tribute to BBC's _The Living and the Dead_.
> 
> Thank you for reading.  
> Comments welcomed.


End file.
